


Want for Nothing

by plaidshirtjimkirk



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Angst, Denial of Feelings, Edo Era, Jealousy, Kyoto, M/M, Pining, Previous Relationship, background toshisami, farmer turned samurai badassery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 04:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20168131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/pseuds/plaidshirtjimkirk
Summary: Ken has it all, so why whywhyis he so jealous of Hijikata Toshizo?





	Want for Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking this out! I finally succeeded in making an OC after too many failures ending in Toshi killing him. lol Akagi Kentaro is a hatamoto who was born into a lavish life of privilege. He met Kondo, or Katsu-kun as he called him in Edo, when Shusuke adopted him as the next TRR heir. Kondo and Ken began a relationship that Ken stepped out of because societal rules dictated he couldn't be with someone lower in class than he was. Ever one to play by the rules, Ken denied himself love for them. When he walked away, Kondo met Hijikata and the rest is history.
> 
> Ken is a politician, serving the Tokugawa family and he's very wary about allowing himself to be exploited by others. Therefore, he remains aloof and largely unreadable. He runs from bad feelings, but oh, will they all catch up with him when the Edo era ends.
> 
> This story picks up after Ken meets Kondo again in Kyoto, finding him to be commander of the Shinsengumi and clearly having a plus one at his side.

**.*Want for Nothing*.** **  
**

Beautiful shoji, pearl colored walls, golden tatami. Extravagant furniture to match extravagant attire. Lavish paintings, exquisite pottery…wealth and status and power beyond any mere peon’s imagination.

The kiseru hit the ashtray with a stark clang.

He had _ everything_, so how could he, a man _ with _ everything, be…

Ken’s eyes stared unblinking into the meticulously maintained garden shrouded by night, unwilling to finish such an unsavory question even in the privacy of his own mind. Alas, it _ had _ been that kind of poison which consumed him since the dinner event on Matsudaira-ko’s castle grounds this evening.

Jealousy.

He gritted his teeth.

How. _ How?! _

How could _ he _ be envious of someone who had nothing, who _ was _ nothing of value? Or, at least that’s what Ken had at first assumed: that Hijikata Toshizo owned not a single possession worth more than the dirt he grew up in—or his peasant status he seemed to will out of existence.

Hijikata _ was _ a peasant indeed, and yet he walked with his head held high and wore attire much too expensive for his class. His voice was calm and his words steady, confidence and surety radiating from a mere farmer in a great room of samurai, of individuals of relevance and importance. But worst of all, _ worst of all_, there was one thing that utter rube possessed which Ken no longer did and never could again.

It was obvious in Katsu-kun’s demeanor…maybe not to someone who hadn’t ever been on the receiving end of his affections, but as Ken had, he knew within an instant. The Shinsengumi commander and vice commander were involved; one, a fake samurai, and the other imagining he was one. And yet, they had the attention of Matsudaira-ko. And Hijikata had the capability, the _ right _ to put his hands all over…

Ken licked his lips, the fury within him smoldering and he let his lashes fall while fingers curled in to form tight fists.

Shimazaki Katsuta, Kondo Isami, _ whatever _ he went by… That man was supposed to live his life as the owner of a poor and failing dojo. He could wear fine clothing and boast swords at his hip from the blessing of adoption, but he was never meant to be here, in Kyoto, pulling so much weight and wielding this amount of power. And his second, who should have no freedom to hold anything but a rake in his hands…

It was _ maddening_. Everyone had their place in the world; Ken was no exception. He was born into hatamoto status, and like his father, he would live such a lifestyle and serve the Tokugawa family to his dying breath.

“_Ken…_” Phantom whispers spilled over his bare neck and shoulders, invisible hands traveling up his sides and back down to cup the swell of his backside. And they were close, so unbelievably close, that they breathed the same breath and the line of individuality blurred until Ken hadn’t been sure where he stopped and where Katsu-kun began. And that, that was… “_Ken, you feel so_…” ...amazing.

But there always _ was _ that line, wasn’t there? Always lines and divisions and boundaries, keeping apart the kind of people who didn’t and couldn’t belong together—no matter how good and right it felt to entwine with their fingers, no matter how the heart yearned for their company, no matter how great the desire to lap up the same kisses and dream about sharing the same life. That was just how things were. It was how they always would be. And so, Ken left the slice of forbidden fruit from a forbidden paradise, for a universe with everything else he could ever want right at his fingertips.

Yet.

Yet…

_ Ken _ had become _ Akagi-dono_. But _ Hijikata _ was _ Toshi _ in casual conversation, even at a formal dinner.

Ken’s eyes opened slowly.

How could he be so jealous?

Hijikata was like Katsu-kun. He never allowed the world to tell him what he could or couldn’t do…never had to let go of something he treasured so deeply because of societal protocol, never spent days and nights getting lost in the embraces of nameless prostitutes and wishing to fill an unfillable void.

…How could Ken be jealous? How could he _ not _ be? How could he not be infuriated?—surrounded by luxury and enveloped in prominence that commanded immediate respect, and yet the one thing he wanted most of all was unattainable. That one thing, that one _ person_, had given himself freely to someone so unworthy, and there they were, out of place but completely _ in _ place too, making it all work seamlessly.

And it did. It worked, damn it all.

Because they hadn’t been afraid to try. Because they hadn’t been afraid of what they might lose when going up against what might be gained instead.

Ken’s fist slammed against the porch, the impact stinging his soft-skinned knuckles. He stood, adjusted his flowy attire and hair, pulled at tassels and fixed the swords he had no particular talent in handling at his hip.

He strode with purpose to a specific room of this large and empty abode passed to his ownership upon the assassination of his father. Shortly, Ken was joined by an attractive man, whose body he knew too well for someone without an inkling of his name.

Silk clothing and hair ties and embellishments and garments, they all fell like graceful ribbons and piled on the tatami about tabi-covered feet.

“Akagi-sama,” his companion breathed.

“Ken.” A purr rumbled against supple flesh of the neck. “Call me Ken.”

“Aka…gi…sama…” Fingertips flexed against his back, but never pressed hard enough to defile its immaculate skin.

And so, Ken made love to a nameless vessel, a living doll, someone who was willing to simply do his job because it was what the world told him his role was. The pay was good, there was a roof over his head, and he was the courtesan of a man all too rich and powerful with everything—his employer whom he served and would never love. They were unnerving, these similarities they shared.

When it was over, Ken stared at the ceiling, alone in a room too dark without moonlight and no stars.

“_Ken_,” Kondo had once whispered in their own aftermath, while holding him close. “What do you dream about?”

Ken knew even then that his answer should have been one word: _ you_. Instead, what left his lips was a haughty, “Things a man from Tama couldn’t even imagine.”

Kondo had merely huffed, stroking his fingers through long hair, and at last relented with a grin. “I’m sure you’re right.”

Outside and away from the ravages of memory, Ken’s courtesan looked toward the sky with a pleased smile. A crescent glowing in the dark, dots of glitter sparkling abound...how bright, how _ beautiful _ this night was. It was a wonder the young master never stopped to appreciate such a view, but then again, he surely had want for nothing—not love, not companionship, not even the stars.

The courtesan wasn’t sure why he felt no envy at that moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks again for reading. <3333


End file.
